


Claw for Solid Ground

by hesterbyrde



Series: What Carries Weight [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, D/s, Dom Phil Coulson, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Major Spoilers, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Feels, Rough Oral Sex, Spoilers, Sub Melinda May, Top Phil Coulson, bottom melinda May, discussion of consensual non-consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place directly after 2x10 "What They Become." Major Spoilers for content before the mid-season break.</p><p>After the horrific events in the alien temple, Phil turns to Melinda once again for comfort. But he finds that the violence of his own thoughts and fantasies make him a tad gun-shy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claw for Solid Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this contains major plot spoilers for the conclusion of 2x10 "What They Become."
> 
> This fic contains kink negotiation regarding consensual non-consent. It's only conversations in this fic, but it will get revisited in the future. I'll be sure to tag the hell out of it when it does.
> 
> Fic title comes from "Full of Grace" by Sarah McGlaclan.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers HexMeridian and KaminaDuck. Feedback and kudos are always appreciated! Thanks for reading.

Melinda May had no idea how long she stood over the tunnel, fearing the worst and howling Phil's name into the ravening dark of the temple. When at last his light glimmered down in the corridor far below, and she heard his voice calling her name, the relief that flooded through her made her head spin.

But she had heard Skye first.

Skye was hysterical. Screaming about Raina and Agent Triplett, and thrashing in Phil's grip as Melinda hoisted them up. It was a miracle that they both managed to make it out of there without further injury due to all her flailing. Phil on the other hand seemed emotionally catatonic. He soothed Skye with mechanical motions; petting her hair and holding her in a firm grip against his side. He issued instructions regarding their extraction, and asked the status of the rest of the team, but his eyes were dead... staring out from nothing, at nothing. Melinda had never seen him like this in all their years of service together. Not in Bahrain. Not after uncovering T.A.H.I.T.I. It almost terrified her more than the thought of losing him, the fear of which had consumed her moments before. 

Almost. 

She helped both him and Skye to the waiting Quin-Jet, along with the rest of the frightened crew. Once on board, only Hunter had the indecency to ask where Trip was. May silenced him with a glare that would cut through steel before clambering into the cockpit. After that, everyone sat in stunned silence, save for Skye's incoherent whimpering.

When she'd seen to the post mission business of securing quarantine and necessary medical assistance for the team, Melinda went in search of Phil. She found him slumped in a chair outside of Skye's quarantine room, dirty shirt unbuttoned, and tie gone. His head rested in his battered hands as he stared blankly into the ward at Skye's unconscious form. The sight seized Melinda's heart. She hesitated for a moment, questioning instinctively if it was her place to go to him... to comfort him. But this was her place now. More than ever.

She walked towards him, letting the heels of her boots strike the floor more heavily than she might otherwise. They'd all had enough surprises for one lifetime. Phil turned his head slightly, indicating he heard her, but didn't look back. When she had stopped beside him, he huffed a heavy sigh and spoke, eyes never drifting from the glass door of Skye's quarantine room. His voice was flat and tired. “They've sedated her. The med staff says she has to stay in there 14 days at minimum because of her exposure to that crystal. Probably the same for Mack, but they won't know anything definite until they run some tests.” he swallowed thickly. “I... I wanted to try to talk to her. To both of them. But they... Mack was barely conscious, and Skye was just...” he trailed off and Melinda heard him sniff. “I let them down, Melinda. I let all of us down.”

She reached down and put her hand on his shoulder, feeling him lean into her touch until his whole torso was pressed against her. “No, you didn't.”

“How do you figure?” Phil asked brokenly. “Trip is dead, Melinda. Skye said he turned to stone and shattered into pieces when-... and then I let God knows what happen to Skye, and it sounds like Raina got away, and Mack... Jesus, I don't know what the fuck happened to Mack either.” He buried his face in his hands.

“What could you have done differently?” Melinda asked calmly.

“I... we shouldn't have gone down there. That's what.” Phil snapped sharply.

“Based on what information that you had prior to the mission?”

Phil just looked up at her sullenly.

“We didn't know it was dangerous. Not this dangerous. We were prepared and briefed as best as any of us knew how. Including you. And if we hadn't gone in there, Raina and HYDRA would have, and then we would be in a great deal more trouble than we are now. More people than Trip might've died.”

Phil was silent for a moment, resting his chin on his fists. “We should bury that place.” He said with some bitter finality.

“How?”

“Part of the city is under the ocean.” Phil offered with a shrug. “Maybe there's a place where we could set some dynamite and flood it.”

“That would require an excavation team. And someone capable of demo without electricity.”

Phil shook his head.“I don't want to send anyone else down there.” he said stiffly.

“But you're right. We need to seal that city off.” Melinda pressed, ignoring the sharp look Phil was giving her. “We should flood it, but we won't know how to go about the demolition without eyes down there. And we need to consider that Raina may still be in play. If Skye survived, she might have as well. And we need... we need to retrieve Trip.”

“Who should we send, then? We are sort of short on options.”

“Have Simmons put a team together. She did the most research on the city before we went down. Let her pick up where she left off.”

“You want to send Simmons down to retrieve Trip's body?”

“Trip meant a lot to all of us. And I wouldn't suggest sending her down alone. Give her a team and let her take charge. Give her specific orders. She operates well in those conditions. It gives her some distance.”

Phil nodded mutely.

“How are you?” Melinda asked after a moment.

Phil shrugged. “Medical looked me over. The stone column prevented any contamination from the crystal. They wanted to put stitches in this cut to prevent it from scarring,” he jabbed at the laceration on his forehead with one finger. “But I just told them to glue it. I wanted to get back here to check on Skye.”

Melinda reached down and cupped his chin in her hand, pulling his face up to look at hers. He moved with some reluctance, and his gaze, when it met hers, was raw and hollow. “That isn't what I asked.” she said softly, caressing his cheek with the ball of her thumb.

It was a long moment before Phil spoke. Tears pooled in his eyes, leaking slowly down his cheeks. “I let us down, Melinda.” he said, his voice saturated and ragged. “Maybe there was nothing that could have prevented it, but it doesn't change facts. Trip is gone and he was one of our best. Sure, he knew what he was signing up for. Your life is always on the line when you work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but Melinda, we can't afford to lose more men like him. And I feel like that's my fault. I'm the one that made the call that put him in harm's way.”

“The fact that we have to go into harm's way is why we need people like Trip.” Melinda replied gently.

“But so many of us now are hired guns... bounty hunters and mercs, and I lose sleep over the possibility of them turning on us if suddenly the money isn't good enough. Why is loyalty suddenly such a rare commodity?” Phil asked, looking up at her. “Why did I lose...” he stopped with a sudden, humorless cough of laughter.

“What?”

“My one good eye.” Phil said smiling sadly.

“Your what?”

“My one good eye.” he repeated a little louder. “That's what Fury always called me.” Phil bowed his face away from her, pressing his cheek into her palm. “I will never escape the guilt of this.” he whispered hoarsely.

Melinda felt pity swelling in her chest. She knelt down, still cupping his face in her hand and she kissed him. His hands, clumsy with fatigue, found their way to her shoulders and rested there heavily. His mouth tasted like blood, and that made her choke on a sudden rush of tears that she fought to keep back.

“I'm so sorry, Melinda.' Phil muttered against her neck after they broke the kiss. “Things are going to get so hard for us now. And I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” she responded gently, pressing their foreheads together. “Come on... lets get you to bed. It's been... a long day.”

“Stay with me tonight?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“I was hoping you'd ask.” She said, smiling for the first time that day.

“You don't always have to wait on me to ask, y'know.” Phil said, standing stiffly to his feet.

“I know... but in this case, I didn't want to impose if you'd rather be alone.”

“That's the opposite of what I want.” he said, slipping an arm around her waist as they walked. 

When they arrived at Phil's room, Melinda locked the door behind them. When she turned around, Phil was already across the room sitting on the bed and toeing off his shoes.

“Melinda, does it ever bother you that we never sleep in your bedroom?” he asked, with a slight frown.

She shook her head. “No. Your bathroom is nicer.”

“You're using me for my bigger bathroom. I should have known.” He smirked at her. He looked more like himself with that smirk. Less like the grief and shock worn ghost that Melinda had hauled up out of the temple.

“Access to an actual bathtub is a redeeming quality of being your...” she paused realizing they'd never named it. Never agreed on a word.

“Girlfriend?” Phil supplied, his smile softening.

“I suppose.” she said, grinning warmly back at him. “I suppose I'm your girlfriend. Besides... sex slave doesn't roll off the tongue in polite conversation.”

She'd clearly caught him off guard because he laughed. Not a loud laugh. But his sadness faded for a moment. Her smile broadened as she sidled over to him. When she was in reach, he circled his arms around her, pressing his face into the leather of her combat suit. They stayed like that for awhile, Melinda rocking him gently and carding her hands through his hair.

Then, she crawled into his lap, straddling him as she pulled him in for a kiss, which started innocently enough. Just the gentlest press of lips and a soft flick of tongue. His mouth opened and she licked deeper, feeling his teeth, and still faintly tasting blood from his split lip. She drank it down in a way, as if she could kiss away every hurt, inside and out. 

“Melinda...” he whispered pulling away from her lips to kiss down the line of her jaw. Her name on his lips was the neediest sound she had ever heard.

“What do you need, Phil.” she whispered, rubbing her face on the collar of his shirt. Through the dirt and sweat, she could still smell the starch and his aftershave. It smelled like home.

He looked up at her and went still for a moment. “I want to forget.” he whispered brokenly. “I know I can't forget forever, but I want to for a little while. I want to lose myself in you. I just...” his throat closed and he swallowed hard. “Please...”

That last little word tore Melinda's heart in two. “You never have to beg me for anything.” she said, caressing his face. Then she kissed him again, still gentle and earnest, before sliding off of his lap and beginning to undress.

Taking off the combat suit was a difficult thing to do gracefully. Sure, she could divest herself of it quickly, but buckles and the lightweight plating didn't allow for much sexy panache. But if Phil's face was anything to go by, she was managing it somehow. She heard Phil suck in a breath when she peeled away the leather from her shoulders and revealed her still healing bruises.

“Are those...” he started to ask, reaching out a hand to ghost over her shoulder blade.

“From the flogger?” she finished.

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“Let me see.”

She stripped off the rest of the combat suit and her underwear, and turned her back to him, sweeping her hair aside as she did. There were dark blemishes on her smooth skin where the heavy leather flogger had fallen upon her back. At first, they had been livid pink and red, but now they'd faded to a stark purple, yellowing like old paper at the edges.

“Do they still hurt?” he asked.

“If I lean on them too hard.” she answered with a half-shrug. “But not really, now. They ached like a bastard the day after though.”

“Do you mind that... that I gave them to you?”

She turned at looked at him over her shoulder. His eyes searched hers earnestly. He had injured her, and now had some separation from that act, she could see he was questioning it. Melinda smiled gently and shook her head. “No, I don't mind.” she said softly. Then she turned and knelt in front of Phil, hands caressing him through his undershirt. “Phil, trust me. I had a way to stop you.” she said as she pushed the button-down off his shoulders. “And if I'd wanted to stop you I wouldn't have had the slightest hesitation to use it. But you didn't come close to making me use it. I enjoyed myself very, very much.”

Phil nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. 

Melinda continued to slip his clothing off with gentle tugs and caresses. She'd pause between garments to kiss him dizzy, or mouth at his ear. When he was naked and a little breathless, she had him lie back on his bed and she folded herself along his side. She stroked his whole body with the length of hers as she leaned in to kiss him again. He gripped her hard, unconsciously digging his fingers into her old bruises. She gasped, arching against him, and he realized what he was doing.

“Sorry.”

“You're not hurting me.” She writhed under his hands, pressing her back harder into his grip.

“I'm not?”

“I'll tell you if something's too much. Trust me.”

She leaned in and kissed him again, feeling renewed pressure from his fingers digging into her bruises. She reveled in the soft ache as she kissed him slowly and deeply. His mouth parted deliciously under her own, drinking down every curl and lick of her tongue.

Melinda worked her lips down the line of his jaw, kissing a gentle trail down his neck, over his collar bone and across his chest. She paused at his scar, gazing up at him. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she licked a wet stripe up the twisted line of skin. He gasped and dropped his head back, arching against her tongue when she licked the scar a second time.

“Melinda...” it was the second time he had moaned her name. She covered the scar reverently with her left hand as her mouth worked lower, nipping and sucking and occasionally giving the barest scrape of her teeth. He shivered when she began mouthing across his hip bones. “Ah, fuck, Melinda...” he muttered as his hips rolled under her peppering of kisses around his cock, which arched up across his belly. He knit his hand into her hair and pulled, finding that she was manipulated easily. But then he relented. “I'm sorry. I interrupted.”

She propped herself up on one arm and squinted at him for a moment, taking his measure. “Why are you suddenly so careful?” she asked directly, as she caressed his cheek with one fingertip. “You're more gun-shy now than you were the that first time we were together in Seattle.”

“I guess... I guess I just don't want you to think it's all about me?” he offered with a noncommittal shrug.

“I don't follow.”

“That it's all about me holding you down or tying you up or...”

“Or?” she pressed.

“Or me forcing myself on you. Melinda, I... You take such good care of me. You let me have what I want always. I just want to make sure the favor is returned.”

Melinda smiled at him then, trailing her fingers over his brow. “I have what I want, which is you asking me to fulfill your wishes.” she whispered tenderly. “Let me assure you of something. I will always ask for what I want. That's why we have the color system, and why we will continue to negotiate. I offer myself up to you to fulfill both our desires, and I will never do that with you in the dark about what I want. Trust me on that. Okay?”

“Okay.” Phil nodded, looking a little at a loss of what to say. 

Now, do you want to hold my hair while you fuck my mouth?” She asked flatly, but not unkindly. The corners of her mouth threatened to smile.

He nodded again, color creeping into his cheeks.

She leaned back down, laying a feather-light and totally infuriating kiss against the base of his cock. She could practically taste his pulse on her tongue. “Then do it.” her words whispered across the sensitive skin, making his cock jump. Phil tightened his grip in her hair again, and Melinda swallowed him down. He set a punishing rhythm at first that had Melinda sputtering and clamoring to keep up, but soon she settled into long, hard strokes of her mouth. Her tongue curled along the underside of his cock, making him moan with every thrust.

The world did that thing again. Where it narrowed and balanced on its point. She was focused and hyper-aware of everything. The ache of old bruises. The whisper of sheets. The taste of Phil, lying heavy and thick on her tongue. The speed of his pulse... quicker than hers even though she was doing all the work.

Melinda loved it here, no matter where “here” happened to be. On her knees. Tied to the bed. Or face down, sucking cock for all she was worth. There was quiet and there was stillness inside of the force and the submission, and she craved it. Craved Phil's hands on her, pushing and molding, just as surely as she craved his direction and instruction in the daylight hours. It was all the same.

She didn't know how long Phil was fucking into her mouth. She could hear him groaning and calling her name as she worked him, and she could tell he was going to come soon. His thrusts were becoming uneven and his breath came in catching gasps.

“Fuck.” he finally said, dragging her mouth away from his throbbing cock. “Get on top of me and fuck me.” he ordered in a ragged voice. Melinda nimbly pulled herself astride his hips and angled him into her. He thrust sharply making her hiss between her teeth. Clearly, all his concern for propriety and fairness had vanished, and even though she was on top, he was with out a doubt the one in control.

Melinda pulled herself up on all fours and began sliding his thick cock in and out of her pussy, mirroring the rhythm he had begun earlier. God, but he felt amazing, and he looked amazing as he gazed up at her. His eyes were full of warm affection and that cold power that made her whole being weak with want. He possessively palmed both her breasts, making her arch her back as she reveled in the touch. It wasn't long before she was shaking and shivering with each thrust. She moaned his name aloud, and her arms trembled and threatened to give out from under her.

Phil caught her, gripping one shoulder and her opposite hip. He growled and his fingers dug into her old bruises as he continued thrusting into her. Melinda couldn't help but go completely limp in his hands as he used her. That was what was happening now. She was being used, and it was a deliciously decadent feeling.

“I'm so close...” she said in a quavering voice. “God, Phil, I'm so close... please...”

“Come for me, Melinda. Just like this.” he rasped, the rhythm of his hips never wavering.

Right on his cue, she went stiff in his grip as pleasure unwound and twined through her limbs, making her see stars. She moaned loudly and scrabbled against his chest as he held her down on his cock.

“Fuck.” she heard him exclaim as he climaxed a second later.

She was more than a little embarrassed that she could barely move. It was all she could do to stay upright and not collapse down onto Phil's chest. Phil just eased her onto her side and curled up facing her. They both trembled with the tiny aftershocks of pleasure as they gently caressed each others faces.

After a long companionable silence, Melinda spoke, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Why were you so cautious tonight?” she asked, a gentle smile curling her swollen lips. “I didn't think you were being totally square with me earlier, but I wanted to suck your cock so much that I decided to wait.”

Phil huffed out a laugh but then was quiet for a moment, his brow puckering as he thought. Finally, he looked up at Melinda, pressed his lips together, and took a deep breath. “Because I scare myself. Some of the thoughts I have... about you... about what I want to do to you? They scare me sometimes.”

Melinda's eyebrows rose in surprise at the honesty of his answer.

“Don't worry... none of them are anything serial killer-esque.” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “None of them even involve things like the floggers or whatever. It's not even fantasies. I'm... I'm not sure how to really talk about it.”

“We can talk about it another time?” Melinda offered, tracing the creases in his forehead as if she could smooth the worry from his face with a touch.

“No, I...” he wet his lips and thought for a moment. “It's when we come together like this that I feel nervous. Not when I've planned out a scene like with the rope or something. But when the emotions outside of the bedroom are running high and I... I turn to you to get away from it. And I usually turn to... forcing you in some way or another. And I just feel strange about that. Especially after seeing those bruises I left you with when I was actually doing something I had planned.”

“Why? She asked simply.

“Because... my fantasies, while only briefly contrived, are much darker. Much more... primal. God, the things I wanted to do to you tonight...”

“Why didn't you?”

“Just... there's a lot of ugliness there and I'm... I'm afraid of letting that out of the box so to speak.”

There was another long silence.

“What sort of things? What sort of fantasies?”

“Nothing... nothing that we haven't already done really.” he said shrugging. His eyes were focused on a strand of her hair that he was winding around his fingers. “It's just... it's the emotion behind it. It's raw and ugly... I want... I want to say things that I'd worry you'd be upset by. Not really insults or anything but just... you're submitting to me. And I feel like I owe some kind of gentleness and decorum to that submission.”

Melinda nodded. “I don't disagree with that statement.” she said. “But I do disagree with the fact that you seem to think the decorum is a specific kind of demand.” she propped herself up on one elbow as she snaked her arm around Phil's waist pulling him closer. “When I submit to you, it is fully. Especially in situations like this. If I need to stop you, I will. Are you worried that I won't?”

“Maybe?” he muttered. 

“I have a safe-word, Phil.” she said, pressing her hand to his chest. “I will use it. I've never needed to with you. Never even come close, and I know you know that's not a challenge. I'm just stating that you know me and know what I want. I just wish...” She trailed off.

“Wish what?”

“Wish you were less afraid of what you want.”

The room was silent again for awhile, save for the swish of the sheets over their skin and their soft breathing.

“Tell me something.” Melinda said, as Phil laid back against the pillow. He pulled her up against his chest as he went.

“Anything.” he replied with a sleepy smile.

“What did you fantasize about tonight that you didn't do? Just because you tell me, doesn't mean we have to do it.”

“True.” he shrugged. He stared at the ceiling for a moment and swallowed. “There... there were a lot of little flashes of things that I thought about.” he responded vaguely.

“Like?”

He ran his hand over his face and sighed. “I wanted to pin you face down on the bed... and make you beg for...” he trailed off and swallowed again before pressing his knuckles lightly to his lips.

“For an orgasm?” she supplied.

“For me to stop.” he said softly, not looking at her.

“Oh.” Melinda said softly. The admission struck her. She hadn't expected that, but she wasn't at all surprised to feel her own desire uncoiling again at his confession.

“I don't expect you to do it.” Phil said, taking her silence to mean a lack of consent. “I-”

“No, we can do that.” she said quickly.

Phil turned and looked at her, clearly both surprised and a little frightened. “I... really?”

Melinda nodded. “I want to talk more about it, especially if it will be a spur of the moment, emotion driven thing. But if that's something you want...”

He nodded, clearly a little dumbfounded. Then he smiled, a wide, relaxed smile of true relief. “Okay.” he said, laughing a little. Then he leaned over and kissed her. “In the morning I'm going to finger you until you scream my name. And maybe the word 'please'” He informed her as he hooked a lock of her hair over her ear.

“I like the sound of that.” she said, cuddling down against his chest. “I like the sound of that a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> This will likely be my last fic in this series for a bit. At least until Age of Ultron comes out, and season 2 wraps up. I like to write my fanfic with the advantage of a little distance so I don't wind up in an awkward corner. I've got some other projects in the works though, including a Phil/Clint/Natasha fic, and a fic for the show "Newsroom" so keep an eye out if you're interested.
> 
> And don't worry... I'll be back to this series soon. Thanks again for reading!


End file.
